


she is your apprentice

by orphan_account



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: F/M, idk what to write..., oh my goshh i dont know he touches her im SORRY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing that you hadn’t replied as a cue to carry on, she does just that. “And basically, like, since he realized Sips wasn’t coming to get him, he decided to do his whole farm thing FOR SipsCo. He felt pretty crappy, I reckon. Hmm…” She falls silent for a while and you were content to the shuffling of your own feet and hers bouncing along the dirt and cobblestone until she continues. “When Sjin was describing Sips, I couldn’t help but imagine, you know…Someone less…er…”</p><p>            “Abysmal?” you wonder aloud, grasping for her answer.</p><p>            “Old.” You both erupt into laughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> whoa….haha…..uh warning for mentions of vomit (only once sentence) and drinking (just a few slight mentions here and there). y///y this is from lalnas point of view and i dunno….if theres anything else please tell me haha…really hetero things…um sorry im not really good at writing sex with women uh..

            She is your apprentice, but she is not ignorant. She works under you and watches your every move, and soon you start to watch hers too. Countless hours spent squinting in the moonlight are now focused on her silhouette, gracefully dancing across the room and sprinkling various items into a crucible. You notice things about her—the scar on her left temple, the catlike state of her eyes, little things you could only see up close. She liked to look you in the eyes. You liked that, too, liked the look of her muddy sight boring into your thick goggles.

            She is curious, always wondering about the state of things. She asks you who Rythian is, claiming you whisper about it in slumber. She asks how you know Sjin and how Sjin knows you. Your eyes get wrinkles tenfold when you break it to her that everything she knows about this world is built upon the idea of peace. You and Sjin didn’t have the best track record. Neither did you and Rythian, nor Rythian and Sjin. It was a vicious circle and a vicious cycle and it will inevitably happen here. You let it slip that you hope she’s not caught in the crossfire, not at all untrue, and she goes red in the face and turns back to her work. It puzzles you and you ponder on it for hours until you realize that you flustered her. You flattered her. It puzzles you for days when you realize you liked seeing her that way.

            She is your apprentice, but she is also your friend. She stays with you until you fall asleep some nights, though it takes hours. She holds your hair and ties it back when your empty stomach retches over dragonblood—she brings you food, too. She touches your forehead with tender hands when you sit up anxiously and stroke the remote that holds your forcefield intact, telling you that it’s time for bed and that Rythian will not come and seek revenge in the night, she’s sure of it. You always find yourself listening to her, laughing with her, spending time with her.

            You, like her, are quite small. Xephos dwarfed you by comparison and Honeydew, the only actual dwarf of the three, was only a little smaller than you. In opposition to your stature, your body spreads outward, quite stout and pudgy. You have big fumbling fingers and big feet and a rather big brain, if you want to brag. Everything about Honeydew’s factory is large in comparison to you and your small wrench, but there you have never felt more inherently huge. You are the gears that work the jaffa cake manufacturing; you are what holds it together by its seams.

            She is a contrast to you. She is small and slender and her fingertips weave in your hair and it feels weird but good. Her hands aren’t weighty like Rythian’s cruel grasp on your locks, nor are they gentle like Xephos scolding you with a pat on the head and a sigh. She feels light against you when she puts on a record and dances clutched to your chest. You wonder sometimes in the night if maybe she’s not really a friend so much as a girlfriend. You’ve never had a girlfriend. You don’t know how she’d feel about being your girlfriend, so you don’t bring it up or talk about it with anyone else. She scares you with her prettiness and her slender wrists winding around your neck and her full lips pressing against your cheeks.

            You often ponder over whether she is real or a figment of your drunken imagination. You’re both pleased and worried that you spend a lot of your time thinking about her. Especially when she isn’t around. You distinctly remember almost slicing half of your finger off trying to saw something in half while thinking about her when she came to you from your fountain. Her hair had been plastered to her forehead and her grin was all but apologetic  and her—there you go, you’ve stapled your stupid glove to your stupid workbench thinking about her and not paying any damn attention. She made you so...so stupid.

            Tonight was a special night; Sjin’s little party, his Sjindig, was to be held at his farm. Nano was up in arms about it, anxious to the teeth and you worried for her sanity while she trudged around the castle looking for something, anything to comb her hair out. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that you might have accidentally used her hair combs for a little robot you were working on. It was for her, so you counted it as fair. She settled for using her nails, plopped in front of the sink in your small bathroom. You yourself had done everyone a favor and taken a shower. Your goggles were perched on your head and she—Nano. Nano Nano Nano, you told yourself, since you hadn’t really called her by anything other than ‘you’ or ‘hey, uh...’—giggled when you called her to leave with you. She tied it back for you, something she liked to do, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss your forehead while you stood deathly still. (She was so small, so amazingly tiny in every respect. She was a marvel, an eighth wonder of the world you feared breaking.)

            “You know,” she said while you walked, swinging your big hand in her tiny one. You weren’t wearing gloves and her skin felt too warm and just warm enough against your skin. “This whole ‘Sjindig’ shebang is really his apology.”

            “Apology?” you ask dumbly. “Apology to who?” You expect it’s Rythian or someone else he’s wronged. You’re incorrect.

            “To _Sips_ , of course,” she swoons, putting emphasis on the CEO’s name with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “You know he left the factory to do this whole stupid thing. Sips was pissed as hell.”

            No, you hadn’t known that and no, you weren’t writing it down in your mental notebook. So Sips and Sjin had gotten into it probably and Sjin wanted to go his own way, eh? What a peculiar thing; Sjin always seemed so dependent on his boss, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

            Seeing that you hadn’t replied as a cue to carry on, she does just that. “And basically, like, since he realized Sips wasn’t coming to get him, he decided to do his whole farm thing FOR SipsCo. He felt pretty crappy, I reckon. Hmm...” She falls silent for a while and you’re content to the shuffling of your own feet and hers bouncing along the dirt and cobblestone until she continues. “When Sjin was describing Sips, I couldn’t help but imagine, you know...Someone less...er...”

            “Abysmal?” you wonder aloud, grasping for her answer.

            “Old.” You both erupt into laughter.

***

            Sjin’s farm had been spectacular and the Sjindig had been great. You carried a snoozing Nano on your back, her warm breath on your face making you feel less frozen to the bone for such a cold night. She stirs a few times, asks where she is, and falls back asleep against your neck. You smile each time and tell her that you’re almost home. When she seems definitely out and not about to wake up with slight jostling, you take her in your arms and fly back. Without a conversational partner, walking was less a fact of life and more a nuisance, especially in the dark.

            You laid her down in her makeshift lab, face against the papers and stacks of cleverly made illustrations of the two of you doing all sorts of silly things. If this was her version of keeping a diary, you loved it. When she was settled, snoring into the table. You, feeling quite tipsy and a little worn out, barely make it to your bed before you pass out.

            When you wake up something cold is pressing against your calves and something warm is around your waist. You open your eye, nervously taking in what little sunlight peaked through your bedroom window, to find a sleeping Nano about three inches from your face. She lookes peaceful, happy, though she always looked that way. Her worry was erased by REM sleep and you bring your thumb to her cheek, stroking it softly. You don’t have the heart to move and risk waking her, so you sit nervously in place for a good half an hour before she opened her eyes.

            “Lalna?” she asks, sitting up. “Why am I in your room? Did you put me here?”

            You flush and shake your head. “N-no! I, uh, I didn’t—No.” Your voice is thick with sleep and your ears radiate heat. “I just...I just woke up here and, whoa, there you were!”

            She shrugs and for the first time you notice what she’s wearing—more importantly, what she isn’t. Her dress from the previous evening has been discarded and she’s wearing nothing but her panties and, god help, her _bra_. It’s pink and childish and you flush further, choosing that as an appropriate moment to pick up a pillow and bury your face in it. She giggles, she does that a lot, and you can feel her posture.

            Hand on hip even through her voice, she says, “Lalna, don’t be such a baby. You act like you’ve never seen a girl without clothes before!” You reply with a groan from within the depths of your pillow. The next thing she replies with is laced with genuine surprise. “Well, for Notch’s sake, you better look now, then. I don’t strip down for every Johnny that I nap with.”

            You work up the nerve to recede from the pillow, and when you do, you wish you hadn’t. She’s looking at you, of fucking course she is, and her face is red and beaming. You drop the pillow entirely and she moves closer. You must be redder than her dress, you realize, but it gets worse when she takes this opportunity of your vulnerability to crawl into your lap. She’s barely a burden and you rest your face against her collarbones, willing your drowsy hands to rub soft lines along her waist. She breathes out and you hadn’t realized she wasn’t breathing. It’s shaky and she presses closer to you, wrapping her legs around your waist timidly. Her body is cold compared to yours and you envelop her easily, warming her up.

            Only when Nano giggles and pulls away, looking down at the place where your bodies meet, do you realize you’re hard. Really hard, actually, and when you think about it, it’s no surprise. You’ve never even been this close to anyone besides Lomadia, and there was never anything between the two of you. You fought battles together and more often than not, she had to press herself flat against you to hide from scurrying foes and insane monsters that crawled up from the darkness. But Nano is...something differently entirely. In the world in your head, she’s yours. She is beautiful and she seemed to fit you perfectly and you take this as initiative enough to kiss her neck. She gasps and her hands find their way into your hair. You test your limits, nipping at her cool skin, which she reacted positively to, hips pressing up against you briefly.

            And that’s, unsurprisingly, how your hand finds its way from her bony hip to her panties. She’s wet, which surprises you because you’re less of a looker than you’d like to admit. You press your finger against her and she lets out something akin to a whimper, compelling you to continue. You do, sliding the thin fabric away and pressing one finger inside. Her body tenses and you can’t help but feel proud of yourself for this small accomplishment. She’s warm and wet and unsurprisingly soft. You move your finger, getting a feel for her, and she moans—it’s high-pitched and it makes your heart flutter, which you’d expect from, well, anything she did. She presses herself closer and you continue, swirling your finger as best you can.

            You get a bit curious and wander, knowing a bit about female anatomy. Hell yes, Lalna, you _do_ know where the clitoris is! You find it relatively easily, wondering why people always made it out to be some sort of box locked tight and guarded by monsters. Maybe it was the brief medicinal background you had fiddled with for a while. Regardless, it does what you suppose it’s meant to, because Nano gasps and tenses up further, back arching. You continue on your chugging path, one finger against her clitoris and one pressing into her the way it was before.

            Both of you are aroused and breathing hard with adrenaline of the moment, and she seems to be getting pretty close. Minutes pass and she ruts against you unashamedly, which makes you smile. Her body goes rigid for what feels like a century, but you don’t stop until she goes slack and balances her head against you. You, for lack of further experience, remove yourself from her and wipe your fingers on your bedsheets. She breathes hard against you and it ghosts against your collarbones and across your chest. You blush and desperately ignore your own arousal, pressing your other hand against her back.

            “Nano?” you ask after a long silence while she catches her breath. “Are you alright?”

            She nods and you feel her smile against your skin. “Yes,” she says, breathing  somewhat stable. “That was, hah, nice. Thank you, Lalna.”

            You don’t bother her with your ‘problem’, and gradually it fades away. You sit for a while, sweaty and disgusting, before she adjusts herself and scoots away. She says she’s going to shower because she feels too sweaty, to which you nod and flop back onto your bed. You’re more confused than when you had started thinking about it the night before, probably moreso. The way she talked to you was so nonchalant, as though nothing had happened and she had just had the sudden urge to take a shower.

            She is your apprentice, your friend, your bedmate, and she’s proven to be much more of an unsolvable puzzle than you imagined.


	2. gone fishin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month passes and you board up the lab she called home. You incorporate her artwork into the flow of your garbage can. Your castle feels less unoccupied and abandoned—more room to do things. You renovate and gradually the feeling of bedside loneliness is less foreign and more faithful. Winter comes and you stop leaving to fight with the green boy.
> 
> And then you receive a letter.
> 
> "Dear Lalna!!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what i would do with the rest of this so i might just end it here...if anyone has any ideas, shoot! otherwise badabing badaboom this is the next chapter!!! yee Haw! this is kinda short n im sorry but its 3 am and im TIRED!!!!!!!!!!!!

                It breaks your heart, shatters all of your organs and destroys the walls you’ve feebly left to crumble in your idle time spent with her. Constant thoughts of _NanoNanoNanoNano_ come to a standstill. Your life support flickers out and for a second you forget to breathe in and you slump easily enough into your chair.

                She’s gone and without a word, save a tiny note she scrawled your name on in her bony handwriting. She’s off to adventure with a man called Dave. (You had originally snorted. Dave ‘Chaos’ was probably someone with....with fewer grey hairs from stress and burn scars and supremely less baggage. Probably had the soul for the hunt, too. Probably young and handsome.

                The tiniest rustle of leaves causes you to jump, expecting all this to be a prank and that Nano would have been playing with the rabbit holes taking real estate in your dying garden. It was just wind, and how had you expected any different? You tried for business as usual. Calls went out to Honeydew Inc. and SipsCo alike, negotiating about ideas and technology you could easily conjure up from scrap metal in your sleep. Time moves too slowly. You clean your lab. And trash it. And clean it again. And trash it again. What was the point of presentation if those being presented to were absent?

                Without her, a gaping and gnarled hole is left where your emotions were forcefully ripped from your body and—No.  Progress was and is progress, and you are the king...nay, the GOD of progress. You can overcome anything. Nights previously spent knee-deep in her presence are not spend tinkering away. Your focus shifts and suddenly the primary goal is to find something, anything to bother. It’s your job to find the perfect target to prod.

                You take trips to the forest to chop trees and squabble with a sharp-toothed and positively green youth that reminds you of her, all too real and too perfect to be human. He hits you and you hit back and your lazy back and forth you have is only alleviated by a stocky brunette coming to shush his touchy friend. You’re quite tired all too often, so you sleep. You sleep for days and the sagging skin (when had those appeared?) under your eyes gradually dissipate.

                A month passes and you board up the lab she called home. You incorporate her artwork into the flow of your garbage can. Your castle feels less unoccupied and abandoned—more room to do things. You renovate and gradually the feeling of bedside loneliness is less foreign and more faithful. Winter comes and you stop leaving to fight with the green boy.

                And then you receive a letter.

_Dear Lalna!!!!_

_Hiiii! It’s mmmme, Nano! Remember?? I’m having a REALLLLY fun time @ Dave’s! We treasure hunt and look for adventure a lot but I think he’s used to being alone. :( He isn’t much for company but he reminds me of you in that way! And makes me miss you x1000000!!!!! :((((((((((!!!!!!!!!!_

_I was thinking about coming home!! Since I’m tired of being a bona fide tomb raider, I’m going to become a stay at home scientist again! At least...for a while!_

_I hope to see you sooooooon!_

_xoxoxoxoxoxo, NANO!!!!!!!!!!!!  :))))))))))))_

                Your hands are trembling and your fingers convulse _._ Nano. Nano Nano Nano _wanted to come home_! And you had just thrown out her stuff, too! You were in a hurry to get everything picked up, you barely had time to write her a letter. It was simple, a quick something scrawled onto paper telling her to come home soon _please_.

                The feeling of fear is not new to you, but the feeling of worry is. Previously you gave barely anything the time of day, but now you find yourself scrambling in the garbage to find her artwork. You use a hammer to bash down the wall to Nano’s apprentice lab and you make yourself busy string up Christmas lights from last year to welcome her home. White twinkles like the stars from her room light up your goggles and you rush to change the sweat-stained sheets of your unmade bed. Nano is coming home and the entire castle is a mess and you’re so unnerved by this fact that you think about calling Sjin for interior design advice.

                Eventually you say ‘fuck it’ and just tidy up the parts of your home that are actually lived in. And eat a proper meal for once. And wait.

                And wait.

                And then as if by magic there’s a knock on your large gate and a chipper vice calling your name and you can’t quite breathe but your hands fumble over the keys to open the door. Then, oh then, Nano is in your arms and her hair still feels like water and she is holding you with so much ferocity that you cannot bear to let go. You had wondered if she had missed you before but the hands that so desperately find their way into your hair and the lips that so softly kiss your face make it easier to release this grudge you had held against her abandonment.

                “Lalna,” she says against your shoulder. Her voice rings like a bell in your ears and it warms you like honey.

                “Nano,” you say back, breathless and dependent on her in this moment.

                “I missed you,” she exclaims readily, leaning away from your touch into a stretch and you give her a good examination.

                Her knee, poking out from the clothes she must have acquired on her travels, looks as though it’s been scraped up and scabbed over. She has poorly-done stitches that look too painful to be real on her left knuckles and her right cheek has a patch of gauze over it. What had she done while she was away?

                “I—Well, I missed you too, of course. I missed you! I thought—that’s not important, but—I—I missed you a lot.” You go red and she laughs in hiccups and you feel whole again.

                The two of you spend the day unceremoniously dicking around, shoving each other into a pond because Nano wanted to go fishing. You compete in catching fish with only your hands and she manages to catch three while you catch none. You outdo her in shooting a bow straight into the apples that the previously-green-but-now-blue boy holds in his hands. She manages to almost hit his shoulder and he comes down and chases you inside, where you fall into a panting hysterical heap.

                You warm up with warm hot chocolate and you fall into bed with your eyebrows drooping. Nano yawns beside you and you put an arm around her and kiss a temple. She smiles and snuggles into this spooning cuddle you’ve got her stuck in and finally, finally the world has come full circle and you could die happy again.

                You attempt to make it a point to contact Xephos and tell him that he can stop dragging Honeydew over through the snow to make you get out of bed, but the thought will be forgotten by morning and you know it. You sleep peacefully for the first time in what feels like years. When you wake up from night terrors of the Rythian in your head tearing out your throat, she is there to keep you warm.


End file.
